


Welcome to Your Life

by watchyouwalk



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchyouwalk/pseuds/watchyouwalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Welcome to your life, Teresa. Are you ready to be miserable?" What happens when Lisbon is the one whose past was tragically affected by Red John? She receives the news that a "psychic" consultant is going to be forced into her working life exactly eighteen years later. This is the story of what happens next... J/L, AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 The Mentalist Big Bang on Jello-Forever (so this story is already completely written). Also my first attempt at a multi-parter for TM. Don't let the fact that it's an AU scare you off - for the most part, the characters are the same.
> 
> Warnings for violence, language, and sexual assault.

**Prologue**

"I'm home!" Teresa Lisbon calls a bit enthusiastically as she steps through the door, bounding into the home she's shared solely with her three younger brothers for the past couple of years now. At the age of seventeen, there's plenty of bounce to her step, and her face is flushed with the exercise of a long run. She takes a swig of water and runs a towel across her forehead, soaking up some of the sweat that's accumulated from the exertion.

 _Strange_ , she thinks to herself as she unlaces her sneakers,  _at least one of them should've called back to me by now._

A frown muddles her expression as Teresa makes her way upstairs, heading for the back room that her brothers usually hole up in for an invigorating afternoon of video games - she, herself, will never see the appeal of such a waste of time.

"Tommy?" She calls out as she approaches the door, pushing it open gently without bothering to knock. "James?"

She stops short of calling for her other brother as a scream pierces her ear drums, and it takes a minute for her to realize that she is the one screaming. Her eyes dart around the room frantically, but all she can see is blood and body parts; an overly-cheery smile is smeared on the wall in blood, consuming her line of sight, and a wave of nausea hits hard as she takes the whole scene in.

"Oh, God. Oh, God." She manages to mumble weakly as she crouches down next to Tommy's body.

He lies in a pool of blood, his body sliced and mutilated in numerous places, and her eyes cloud with tears as she looks over to find the same fate has been dealt the other two. Her hands feel a bit wet, and her eyes widen when she notices that some of their blood has now stained her hands. She runs to the bathroom, barely making it in time before she empties her stomach multiple times over. She feels weak and disoriented, tears streaming down her face.  _Who would do this? Why did it have to be them? Why not me?_

She can't stomach another look into that room, so she sits on the bathroom floor and cries harder than she ever has in her life; she hasn't cried so much since her mother was killed in a car accident five years ago, and the feeling of grief is overwhelming. Teresa takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down enough to handle a phone call to the police. In a futile attempt to steel herself against her jumbled emotions, she mechanically stands up and walks downstairs in the direction of the kitchen. She manages to find the nearest phone, feeling somewhat detached from her body as she presses four buttons, 9-1-1-SEND, and waits.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" An operator's voice rings in her ears, sounding somewhat distant.

"My brothers. They're..."  _Deep breaths, Teresa. Calm your emotions._  "They're dead. Someone killed them. I don't know; I just got home and... found them." She takes a few ragged breaths, fighting the fresh wave of tears that burns behind her eyes.

"Ma'am, what is your location?" A hint of concern in her voice, less peppy than a few moments before.

Teresa rattles off the address and, after the operator assures her that local emergency services are on their way, she thanks her and hangs up. More waiting.

Police are swarming her house now, and some sort of crime unit has been called to assess the situation. She's standing outside on the lawn, her eyes puffy and swollen, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the cold. Never mind the fact that it's the middle of August and blazing hot outside; she has chills all over. An officer approaches her somewhat tentatively, and she can tell from his pale complexion that what he's witnessed inside her house is not something he's exactly accustomed to.

"Uh, Miss? I need to ask you some questions... would that be all right?" He asks nervously, pulling a pen from his pocket and holding it poised over his little notepad.

She shrugs and raises her eyes to meet his gaze, unsure what sort of questions she's supposed to have the answers to.

He clears his throat, seemingly putting on an air of professionalism, and looks at her with sympathetic eyes.

"What's your name, Miss?"

"Teresa Lisbon."  _Why am I being asked this?_

"And... your relationship to the, uh, victims?"

"They're my..." she sniffles a little, determined not to break down again. "They're my little brothers."

He jots that down before moving on to his next question. "Where were you this morning, Ms. Lisbon?" He asks, his voice sounding a bit hesitant.

She wonders about that for a moment, but as the implications of the question sink in, a bit of rage tints her voice.

"You think I...?" She doesn't have the heart to finish the question, but he seems to get the hint.

"We, uh, have to ask, Miss. It's protocol. Please, answer the question."

She narrows her eyes, her voice cold and steely.  _How dare they even think that about me!_  "I was out for a run; same as every morning."

"Can anyone confirm that for you?"

Exasperation fills her voice as another wave of tears hits. "I don't know, sir. Why don't you ask some of the neighbours; maybe they saw me from their windows!"

The officer clears his throat, somewhat surprised at her outburst of emotion. "Okay. That's all for now, then."

It's not until a few hours later that Teresa notices the note. She's slowly shuffling around her bedroom, gathering a few things in an overnight bag, when she sees it sticking out from the corner of her mirror. It's tucked amidst a collage of photos, and she probably wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for that same bright red smile on the outside. She gasps, dropping the bag to the floor as she reaches for it. She's not quite sure she even wants to know what it says, but she goes through the motions anyway; grab the note, open it, read it. A simple message, but the words written there say enough to make her collapse to her knees, once again feeling the sting of tears.

 **Welcome to your life, Teresa.**

 **Are you ready to be miserable?**

 **-xxx-**

The memories disappear in a flash as the shrill clangs from her phone pull her back to the present. Lisbon, as she's addressed by now, had applied to the police academy as soon as she was old enough, and with a fierce determination that has stuck with her, she worked her way up to her current position. So here she is, eighteen years since that life-altering day: Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon in charge of the Serious Crimes Unit at the California Bureau of Investigation. A mouthful of a title, but it's one she's very proud of.

"Lisbon," she mumbles into the receiver.

"It's Minelli. I need you in early tomorrow; we're bringing in a consultant to help out your team, and I want you here to meet him first thing."

A hundred objections rise to the front of her mind, but she pushes them aside and swallows her doubts. She can't exactly argue with the boss anyway. "Yes, sir. I'll be here."

"Great. His name is Patrick Jane, just as a heads up."

She makes up her mind right then to do a quick background check on this guy, and the call quickly comes to an end.  _A consultant? Really?_

"Van Pelt!" The rookie perks up at the mention of her name, always eager to prove herself. "Run a check on a Patrick Jane for me, would you?"

"You got it, Boss." She nods with determination, already vigorously tapping away at the keyboard. A smile tugs at the corners of Lisbon's lips as she realizes not for the first time just how much Van Pelt reminds her of herself when she was starting out.

"Here you go." The redhead grins as she rotates the computer screen in Lisbon's direction.

She just barely holds back her laughter as she reads.

"A psychic, huh? Well, this should be interesting." She rolls her eyes.  _What is Minelli thinking? Psychics are nothing but a bunch of fakes._

Her eyes widen for the smallest moment as Van Pelt scrolls down the page to a picture of the man in question. He could almost pass for a Greek god – piercing blue eyes, a mega-watt smile, and golden curls that make you want to run your fingers through them just at the sight. It doesn't hurt that he's clearly in good shape too, judging by the muscles peeking from beneath the form fitting tee and relaxed fit of the modern style jeans he sports in this particular picture. She lets out a sigh, almost inaudibly so as not to tip off the hopeless romantic on her right to her change of mood.  _I guess I'll have to wait and see what tomorrow holds._


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisbon meets her new consultant for the first time, and they receive their first case - a murder at a carnival.

**Chapter One**

Lisbon arrives at work an hour early the next day, as requested. Sleep had evaded her the night before, and as a result, it had taken her even more time in the morning to look presentable. Minelli's office is brightly lit a few feet in front of her, and she heads right in without bothering to knock – they have known each other far too long to care about such courtesies.

"Boss?" she queries, standing in front of his desk in an inquisitive stance.

"Agent Lisbon! Thank you for coming in early. I'd like you to meet Patrick Jane, your team's new consultant." Minelli states enthusiastically, injecting more professionalism into the conversation than there normally is between them.

She turns to face him, only to find that he's standing a whole lot closer than she's comfortable with, that charming grin from the picture plastered on his face. Something akin to surprise in his eyes causes her to frown as she takes a step back, putting a decent amount of distance between herself and the notorious psychic with the beautiful face.

"Surprised to find that your new superior is a woman, Mr. Jane?" Lisbon asks, allowing a bit of her disgust to creep into her tone.

"Oh, not at all. They informed me that you were a member of the fairer sex, but mention of your pretty features was sadly neglected," he quips with a wink. "And please, call me Patrick." Another charming grin as he offers his hand for her to shake.

She can't resist the urge to roll her eyes at his horrible attempt to flatter her. " _Jane._ " She emphasizes the use of his surname this time around. "This is a professional work place; last names are to be used at all times." She stares at the proffered hand somewhat skeptically before gripping it in her much smaller hand. She barely holds back a gasp as a shock of electricity seems to jump from his hand to hers, shooting its way up her arm. _Well, that's new._

She pulls her hand back quickly, finding herself suddenly averting his gaze.

"Shocking, isn't it? I seem to have that effect on women." He sounds a bit smug, and she prepares to roll her eyes before she looks up and finds a reason to scowl instead. Attached to his hand is a buzzer, and he waves at her, perfectly pleased with himself.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Lisbon mutters in disgust as she flees the room.

He catches up to her in no time and, much to her annoyance, begins to ask questions. "So, Agent Lisbon. Do you have a first name?"

 _Oh please._ "You're the psychic, Jane; you figure it out."

"There's no such thing as psychics." He states matter-of-factly, using a tone that implies she should be smart enough to know such things.

"Well thank you, Captain Obvious. I already knew that." Her tone is now dripping in sarcasm. _Does this man not realize his listed occupation?_

He flashes another perfect smile in her direction before replying, "You're quite welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm."

She utters a sigh of relief as they enter the bullpen, Jane seemingly attached to her side. He observes his new surroundings with apparent interest, finally bringing his gaze to rest on hers. A mischievous twinkle lights up his eyes, much to her discomfort. "Hm. Teresa. It fits you very nicely."

Her jaw drops slightly in shock, but she regains her composure enough to stammer some instruction at him. "Sit." She points to an empty desk on the opposite side of the room. "That's your desk. Just… stay there, okay?" She stalks off to her office, preferably away from the unnerving consultant. Understanding and a bit of unacknowledged disappointment hit her as she breezes past the door. Her name is engraved on the plaque that resides there - the man is no psychic! Then again, she already knew that.

Lisbon plops down into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose; she can already feel the beginnings of a migraine, no doubt triggered by the blond who has now made himself comfortable on their couch. _Great. He's already disobeying orders._ A smile tugs at her lips at the awkward picture he presents, dressed in a crisp three-piece suit while lounging quite comfortably, completely spread out on the couch. Even more amusing is the expression on Rigsby's face; he looks absolutely dumbfounded with his jaw a little slack, the potato chips he was in the midst of eating having stopped midway to his mouth. His focus is on Jane, more than a little confused, as he has no clue whom the man is. Cho, not surprisingly, looks the same as always, acknowledging Jane's presence merely with a glance in his direction before focusing once again on the paperwork in front of him. Van Pelt breezes in just then, punctual as ever. She stops short of her usual greeting when she spots a strange man lying on the couch in the corner and shoots an inquisitive glance in Cho's direction. He simply shrugs, and she takes that as her signal to come ask Lisbon about it.

"Uh… Boss?" she sounds perfectly bemused, and Lisbon can't help but smirk. "Why is that guy you asked me to run a search on sitting on our couch?"

She rises, a bit hesitant to remember her manners and properly introduce the man. She motions for Van Pelt to follow her as she walks back into the bullpen. Rigsby, who has now resumed his task of munching on some greasy potato chips, and Cho look up as she enters, both looking at her somewhat expectantly.

"Jane!" she grumbles loudly, barely hiding her amusement as he pops straight up, his expression that of a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. "That couch is not your desk. Sit!" She points once again at his desk, and he saunters over somewhat regrettably. "Okay. Patrick Jane-" Lisbon gestures in his general direction while addressing her team- "is our new consultant. Jane-" she turns toward him, noting his child-like amusement as he spins around in his chair- "these are Agents Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt."

He hops up immediately, giving them each a firm handshake while addressing them by their first names. "Kimball, Wayne, Grace. Nice to make your acquaintances." He nods at each of them, his mega-watt smile back in place.

Even Cho is a bit confused at this point, and Jane looks extra pleased with himself as he sits back down, resuming his spinning act.

"Name tags, guys." She nods at their desks. "We all have them."

She relishes the look on Jane's face, seemingly disappointed that Lisbon foiled his tricks. She finds it very easy to take pleasure in his misery – somewhat surprising, having only been acquainted with the man for a little over an hour.

Cho shrugs, expectedly unimpressed, while a light bulb appears to go off above Rigsby's head and Van Pelt utters a simple, "Oh..."

Lisbon shakes her head, tapping the newly-acquired case file against her leg. She clears her throat, effectively earning the attention of the rest of the team. Well, all but Jane.

"We have a case." She scans the file once more. "Looks like we're heading over to the carnival."

That seems to get Jane's attention. "The carnival? That sounds like fun!"

She rolls her eyes... again. Apparently he's forgotten that a case at the carnival means someone was murdered there. "Yea, Jane. Maybe they'll even let you ride the carousel!" She quips sarcastically.

"Oh, goodie!" he chimes in a sing-song voice. At this point she wouldn't be surprised if he jumps in the air and claps.

"Uh, Boss?" Rigsby pipes up. "Can we, uh, really ride the carousel?"

Lisbon throws her hands in the air. "Are you serious? Just... let's go!" She stalks out of the bullpen and heads toward the elevator, the team now scrambling to catch up while Jane trails behind at his own leisurely pace. _It's going to be a long day._

-xxx-

Less than an hour later, Lisbon is observing her surroundings with a shiver. She had never liked carnivals much – the people, the noise, and most of all, the clowns. The appeal of those people dressed in frilly, obnoxiously-bright outfits and permanent smiles painted on their faces is completely lost on her.

Jane's voice penetrates her thoughts from somewhere to her left. "Well, that's not exactly a pleasant smile." Her blood chills at his words, images of bloody smiley faces racing through her mind. _Not today…_

She can feel her heart rate accelerating as she turns toward him. To her surprise, she is greeted with an enormous, masochistic-looking stuffed animal, patterned in funky colors with a crooked smile stitched across its face. "If you want to make a child happy, this is really not the way to go!" Jane chirps, clucking his tongue while peeking his head out from behind the toy.

She practically melts with relief, mentally berating herself for overreacting, before pulling her professional mask back into place. "Jane! Put that down! We have a crime scene to analyze!" she barks, smirking inwardly at his defeated expression.

She raises her hand to her head, rubbing her temples to relieve some of the tension gathering into a dull ache. "Just so you know, Jane, crime scenes are not exactly pret-" she stops her apparently unnecessary warning as she lowers her hand to see him heading under the crime scene tape, and into the... house of mirrors? _Oh great..._

She ducks after him, glancing around hesitantly as the prospect of a clear path diminishes into a maze of mirrors. _It just had to be in the house of mirrors._ She manages to bump into a hidden wall only five times before stumbling into an open space where she blinks back her surprise at the sight of Jane leaning over the body, a studious expression creasing his forehead. The man doesn't even bat an eyelash at the sight of blood or the victim's lifeless body. _Interesting._

Giving a slight shake of her head, she heads toward Jane to get a closer look at the body. The female victim appears to be no older than twenty with long auburn curls and brown eyes that Lisbon suspects must have held some sparkle before her life was ended, resulting in the dullness present now. Lowering her gaze, she quickly deduces that the source of the monstrous pool of blood is a single, and apparently deep, stab wound to the girl's chest, which Jane is now studying with seeming interest.

"Notice anything of importance?" She grumbles at him, still not entirely sure how he could be of any help to them.

"Meh," he stands with a shrug, "nothing much to notice, though I find it odd that she wears this ring on her wedding finger. It's definitely not your typical engagement ring. By the way, Lisbon, next time you might try running your hand along the right wall – impossible to get lost that way. Are there any witnesses I can speak to?"

A bit of excitement brightens his tone at the question, and she fixes him with a glare before pointing to a group of three slack-jawed and bleary-eyed girls huddled by a police officer in a brightly lit room off to the side – without the lights on, you would never know it was there with the way the door blends into the wall. "Perfect," he states, flashing a smile before turning to join them.

He saunters over, seemingly nonchalant attitude in place. "Jess didn't deserve this," one manages to sniffle out to the officer. "I have no idea why anyone would-" All three girls shift their gaze to him as he gets closer, and he takes the opportunity to study their faces and mannerisms. Though the first two convey all the usual signs of grief and remorse, the third is sure to divert her gaze from the body and shifts nervously from foot to foot, all the while twisting some sort of ring on her left ring finger. _Aha!_

"So!" he points to the one on the far right, a tall and leggy girl with cropped blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. "Jess must be the secret gay lover that you were hiding from your parents, and-" he glances at the faces of the other two girls who are now in complete shock- "judging by their reactions, these two here as well."

Jane stares at her expectantly, noting the varying emotions that flicker in her eyes before she finally decides on indignant embarrassment. "I'm not… we weren't… ugh!" she trails off with a huff, while the other two continue to gape and stare, not bothering to hide their disgust at this revelation.

"You m-mean, you two w-were…? Oh, my God!" the girl closest to him manages to stammer, her vibrant hazel eyes open wide with surprise. She makes a move to sweep her near-black curls from her eyes before muttering under her breath, "I can't believe this."

"Believe it." Jane chimes in. "Jess and…" he quirks his eyebrow at the accused.

"My name is Analeigh," she mumbles through gritted teeth, tightening her grip on a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

"All right then. Jess and Analeigh here were having a little love affair behind everyone's backs. Analeigh didn't want anyone to know, but Jess was tired of hiding. She was going to tell, wasn't she, Analeigh? She was going to tell her parents and your parents and anyone who would listen, and then you would be ruined! Isn't that right?"

Analeigh is wide-eyed at this point, but she's quick to answer. "No! No!"

 _Too quick._

"Are you sure about that? Because I say that she told you she wasn't going to keep your little secret anymore, and something snapped. You were angry and scared, but mostly angry. So you lured her into the house of mirrors ahead of the other two, and before they could catch up, you stabbed her! Because hey, if she's dead, who's she gonna tell? Hm?"

Analeigh's eyes are brimming with hot tears, the fear in her expression replaced with anger. "Yes! Of course I did! That little slut was going to tell everyone! Do you think I could just let that happen? No! No, I couldn't! After so long, and after how hard I worked to make sure no one would find out, she thinks she can just blab our secret to the world? _I don't think so!_ " Her hands are clenched into fists as her voice rises with every word.

Jane shrugs, rocking back on his heels. "Well, I was just bluffing. But that works too."

The girl's face has completely drained of color upon realizing that she was baited, and her bag drops to the floor, a bloody knife clattering out beside it.

Lisbon, who has had no problem hearing the very loud confession from a few feet away, quickly jumps into action, masking her surprise while she cuffs Analeigh and recites her rights before handing her off to the officer.

The other two girls couldn't possibly be more lost. The dark-haired one squeezes her eyes shut tight, hand over her mouth, while the redhead has gone completely still, tears silently streaking down her cheeks. "Rigsby, Cho! Finish up here," she nods toward Jess's body. "Van Pelt! Bag the weapon for prints, just in case."

"You got it, Boss." Rigsby pipes up, while Cho just nods and Van Pelt grabs an evidence bag.

"Anybody seen Jane?" she asks, just noticing that he seems to have disappeared from the immediate vicinity. Rigsby and Cho share a look before shaking their heads. "Van Pelt?"

"Sorry, Boss. Haven't seen him."

 _Wonderful._

She stalks out of the house of mirrors, remembering to run her hand along the wall and realizing with a bit of regret that it really does work as she squints into the sunlight outside.

"Lisbon! Over here!" A cheery voice rings out from somewhere behind her.

She turns toward him slowly, not even close to returning the enthusiastic wave he greets her with before growling at him, "Get _off_ the carousel, Jane!"


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lisbon starts to realize just how much of a problem Jane is and Red John resurfaces.

**Chapter Two**

Lisbon can almost feel her eye twitching as another stack of papers thuds onto her desk.

"More Jane complaints, Boss.” Van Pelt states, a bit wistful as she slides the paperwork across Lisbon's desk.

"Great," she mutters. "Just what I need. More paperwork." 

She directs her best withering glare at the intimidating stack that is already present before peeking at the pile in her outbox. She's barely made a dent, and now her workload has just doubled. 

"Ow," she moans pitifully as her head makes contact with her desk repeatedly.

"I'll just, um...yea…” Van Pelt stammers before backing quietly out of Lisbon's office, closing the door behind her.

_When I get my hands on that man…_

"Lisbon!" Speak of the devil. "There you are! What's keeping you holed up in here so long?" The cheerfulness in his voice only serves to fuel her anger.

"You, actually," she growls, raising her head to glare at him.

"Me?" The look of utter confusion on his face is almost worth it.

Almost.

"Yes, you! Do you realize how many people you annoy on a daily basis? This many, Jane!" She taps the offending stack of paperwork with her pen for emphasis. 

"Do you realize that I have to make excuses for you every single time someone complains? And these are only the official complaints! Triple the amount you have here and that's about how many times someone has talked to me in person regarding your behavior. And you've only been here for three weeks! You represent the CBI now, Jane. You can't just go and do or say or act however you please!" She's on her feet at this point, leaning her hands against her desk, while Jane slowly backs a few inches away.

"Meh, I beg to differ, Lisbon. I think your most recent closed case rates speak for themselves.” He punctuates his smug statement with a wink before quickly backtracking out of her office.

"Good riddance," she mumbles under her breath.

An hour passes silently as Lisbon whips through the pile of papers, the monotonous ticks of the clock the only sound to break the quiet. She sets the pen down to flex her cramping hand, pleased that only a fraction of the original paperwork monster remains, when she hears a knock on the door. 

"Go away, Jane!" She mutters loudly, only looking up when the door creaks open. "Oh, Boss. I'm sorry, I thought you were Ja-"

"Jane, yes. I heard. Lucky for you, I'm not," he interrupts with a small smile. "Anyway, you have a new case." He approaches her desk to hand her the file. She takes a quick glance just to see where they’re headed, not even reading the details surrounding the case so far.

"I really am sorry for yelling at you. I just assumed..." she trails off and looks up to see his retreating form.

"It’s no problem, Lisbon!" he calls over his shoulder.

She swipes her jacket from the back of her chair, sliding it on as she steps into the bullpen.

 "Grab your things, guys. New case."

\---

The stench of blood assaults Lisbon’s senses before they’ve even reached the door that conceals the crime scene. She nudges the door open, her face slowly draining of color as her attention is immediately caught by a smiley face painted on the wall in blood. For a while she only stares at it, her muscles completely stiff as the taunting smile stares back at her.

Jane walks past, noting with some bemusement that Lisbon is completely zoned out. He’ll just have to fix that.

“Lisbon. Hello, Lisbon. Are you in there somewhere?” His voice grows louder when she doesn’t respond, and he eventually brings his mouth so close to her that she registers his warm breath tickling her ear. “Teresa! Snap out of it, woman.”

She turns to face him, a flush of embarrassment bringing a bit of color back to her cheeks. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her that he pronounces her name as though it were spelled with a ‘Z’ instead of an ‘S’, and she would be lying to herself if she claimed she didn’t somehow like the way it sounds. _Or love it._ She snaps out of that train of thought before it goes any further and channels her embarrassment into anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jane? It’s _Lisbon_. Not Teresa.”

She turns toward the victim’s body, squinting her eyes against what she knows she will find; his _modus operandi_ is always the same, the only exception so far being that of her brothers’ murders. The young girl lying dead in front of Lisbon appears to be in her late teens or early twenties. Her dark brown hair is styled in a classic bob with bangs in a straight line across her forehead, and her eyes, although lifeless, sparkle like emeralds – fitting, considering their bright green tone. 

The rest of her body is barely recognizable through all of the blood and knife marks. Her own hand moves subconsciously to her throat, massaging it against the pain she feels from one glance at the girl’s slashed throat.

“Hm,” Jane mumbles to no one in particular from the left of the body. He leans forward after examining his hands, which appear to be covered in short dark hairs, and takes a big whiff of her hair before staring intently into her eyes. “Her hair has been recently cut and dyed, and she’s wearing colored contacts.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Lisbon grumbles to herself.

“How did you already know that?” Jane pipes up, his voice piqued with curiosity. Well, I thought I was speaking to myself.

“Because...” She considers telling the truth for less than a second before sticking with her routine response, “I’ve worked these cases before. They’re all the same.” Her voice is still and cold. All the while, the truth echoes in her mind, words so loud she’s almost sure the whole room can hear as they pierce her brain.

_Because that girl is me when I was seventeen. That’s how I know._


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane is determined to figure out why Lisbon was acting so strangely.

**Chapter Three**

****A few hours have passed, but all Patrick Jane can think of is how odd Lisbon was acting at the most recent crime scene – a Red John murder, so he now knows. He can’t seem to figure out why she seems so affected by it, especially since Van Pelt informed him that Lisbon has been handling the Red John case for years now, but he intends to find out. _Starting right now._

He swings open her office door, seeing very little point in knocking. She’s on the phone, but she manages to pull her attention from the call long enough to send an unappreciative glare in his direction. He raises his hands in a gesture of innocence, rocking back on his heels while she finishes up the call.

“And there was evidence of sexual assault?” she pauses while the person on the other end of the line affirms her inquiry. “That’s what I thought – consistent with his MO. Alright, thanks.”

She hangs up abruptly, running a hand through her hair in a gesture of anxiety before turning her attention to him.

“Ever heard of knocking, Jane?” her biting tone indicating she’s a bit perturbed.

“Meh,” he shrugs, “that would be time wasted.”

Her only response is a small grunt of disapproval, and Jane can’t help smiling, amused by the way she crinkles her nose. It’s an undeniably cute facial quirk, and he’s sure she has no idea just how adorable it is.

“What’s bugging you so much about this Red John stuff?” he waves his hand in dismissal.

“What?” Her eyes widen just slightly before she blinks, but it doesn’t escape him.

“You know what I’m talking about, Lisbon.” He leans forward, placing his hands on the edge of her desk. “Something about this case bothers you. I’m just curious to know what that might be.”

“I’m fine, Jane.” She lowers her voice while narrowing her eyes, he assumes to better hide her true emotions from his prying eyes.

“That’s the oldest excuse in the book, Lisbon. You’re going to have to come up with something better if you hope to be convincing. I mean, even Rigsby wouldn’t have believed you on that one, and we all know he’s not exactly the brightest crayon in the box.”

The slight jab at their colleague elicits a small smile from across the desk. That’s the one. He returns her smile with one of his own.

“Now that you’ve got a smile on your face, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Your persistence is rather irritating, you know that?” she growls, smile starting to fade.

“You’re deflecting, you know that?” he quips back.

“You’re not going to leave until I tell you, are you?” Her voice shrinks with each word.

“So there is something!” He raises an eyebrow in fake skepticism.

“Don’t push it, Jane. As if you didn’t already know.” Her voice hints at annoyance, and her expression grows serious. She pauses for a moment, a somewhat faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s reliving an old memory. He moves his hand to cover hers in what he intends to be a comforting gesture, and she surprises them both when she doesn’t pull away.

“I lived with my three younger brothers and took care of them since I was fifteen.” She starts, her tone wistful. He can tell she won’t be revealing too much, but he can easily solve that problem.

“And your parents,” he inquires gently, running his thumb slowly over the back of her hand to help her relax. “what about them?”

“I don’t want-“

“It’s okay, Lisbon. You can tell me.” His voice is soothing, and his thumb continues making lazy circles as her eyelids begin to droop.

“Are you trying to hyp-“

“Shh, Teresa. Relax. You’re in a safe place,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, lightly tapping her shoulder with his free hand. “You can trust me.”

“Mom was killed in a car accident when I was twelve. Drunk driver.” Her voice is practically void of emotion. “My father became an alcoholic after that. He spent the next three years drinking himself into a rage every night and beating my brothers before he would pass out on the couch. One morning, he didn’t wake up.”

“What happened after that?” His voice is calm, despite the varying emotions he feels as she reveals her past.

“When I was seventeen, I came home from my morning jog to find all three of my brothers upstairs. They were dead. Murdered. It was Red John.” Even in her subconscious state her words are cold and clipped.

His face pales as he quickly pieces everything together in his mind. “Is there anything else?” he asks, somewhat hesitantly.

“I’m wearing polka-dotted panties today.”

“Oh, really? How lovely. Is there anything else relating to Red John?”

“Mm. Red John’s victims. They all-“ 

She’s cut off as the door opens, and Jane jumps up, quickly tapping her on the shoulder before turning around.

“Cho! Good afternoon. What brings you into Lisbon’s office?” He greets the agent cheerfully, blissfully unaware of Lisbon’s rising temper behind him.

“What the _hell_ , Jane!” she growls at him. He slowly turns toward her while Cho raises an eyebrow, suddenly regretting that he interrupted whatever he walked in on. “You think you can just hypnotize me and go digging through my personal life whenever you damn well please?”

“Nonsense, Lisbon. It was just a light trance,” he explains, flashing a sheepish grin.

“Like hell it was! What did I tell you, Jane? What?” She glares at him, crossing her arms impatiently.

_If looks could kill…_

“Oh, nothing of importance, really,” he deflects, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m sure.” She narrows her gaze. “Look, the next time you even think about pulling this kind of crap with me again, I will not hesitate to shoot you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. Now go.” She seethes, pointing toward the bullpen.

He saunters toward his couch while Cho stays behind to inform her about the absolute lack of evidence from the Red John crime scene. Jane barely hears her muttered reply as he plops down on his couch, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice much else.

_What was she going to say about the victims?_

\---

“The forensics team was unable to recover any usable evidence from the Red John scene, Boss.” Cho states, the slightest hint of frustration in his usually stoic tone.

“Of course not.” Lisbon mutters under her breath, running a hand through her hair. “Looks like the trail’s gone cold again. Thanks, Cho.”

He departs with a nod, and she lets her forehead hit her desk as soon as she hears the door click shut. She hadn’t been expecting there to be any evidence, but that didn’t make hearing it any less disappointing.

She lifts her head, reluctantly glancing toward the bullpen and the mop of blonde curls peeking out from atop the couch cushions.

_Stupid Jane._

Damn that man for not knowing how to just mind his own business. And damn her for trusting him! She should’ve just snatched her hand away as soon as he touched her, but no! She allowed herself that little bit of trust, and now she has no idea what her nosy consultant knows about her life.

_I need some coffee…_

Lisbon gets up and stalks toward the break room, not even sparing a glance at any member of the team. Snatching a mug from the counter, she quickly fills it to the brim with piping hot coffee, genuinely hoping it’s good and strong today.

_Who am I kidding? I don’t trust Jane. Insufferable man!_

She raises the mug to her lips, just about to enjoy her first sip, when his voice chimes right next to her ear.

“Y’know, Lisbon, if you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t have told me anything earlier.”

She jumps, spilling a few drops of coffee on her blouse in the process.

“Damn it, Jane! Wear a bell or something!” she growls at him, whipping around to face him before grabbing some paper towels. She dabs furiously at the dark brown marks, but if anything, they just seem to spread. “Great. That’s probably gonna stain.”

“May I?” Jane gestures to the paper towel she’s holding, his tone feigning innocence.

“No! And I do _not_ trust you!” She emphasizes her point by poking a finger to his chest before angrily throwing the paper towels away. _Useless things._

“Nonsense, woman! Of course you trust me.” He takes a step toward her and leans forward so he’s staring directly into her eyes, causing her breath to hitch. “How else do I know that you’re wearing polka-dotted pant-”

She clamps a hand over his mouth before he can finish his very embarrassing proclamation, effectively removing his smug grin from view while she feels the heat rising to her cheeks.

“You hypnotized me, Jane. That doesn’t mean I trust you, it just means you’re an ass.”

“Not so, Lisbon.” He clucks his tongue. “Everyone knows that even in the deepest trance, you only reveal personal information to a person in whom you’ve placed your trust. I’m just touched that you like me so much. In fact,” he leans even closer and lowers his voice. Her eyes widen just slightly at the feel of his breath fanning across her face, “I think you have a crush on me.”

“We’re not in middle school, Jane.” She whispers incredulously, her blush deepening by the second. “And I definitely do not have a crush on you.”

“Oh, you know what they say,” he whispers back, leaning impossibly closer to whisper in her ear, “denial is the first step.” 

With that, he nips the top of her ear before retreating to the bullpen, leaving her frozen to the spot, jaw dropped and looking like an idiot.

\---

Jane plops comfortably onto his couch and stretches his legs out, smirking and perfectly pleased with himself.

“What was that all about?” Rigsby is the first to pipe up.  

They had all overheard the conversation between Jane and the boss, at least up until they both lowered their voices. The break room might be close by, but whispering always makes eavesdropping nearly impossible.

“Oh, nothing. Lisbon’s just having a hard time dealing with the fact that she trusts me.” 

“She doesn’t. You lied.” Cho states. “We all heard you.”

“What did I lie about?” Jane scoffs, feigning offense. “It saddens me that you all think I would just lie to Lisbon like that.”

“You told her hypnotism requires trust, but that’s not true. If people trust you, you don’t need to hypnotize them to get information out of them.” Van Pelt adds, narrowing her gaze just slightly at him. “Therefore, you lied.”

“Meh, technicalities.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. “Besides, trust still comes into play; lowers the threshold. How else would I know that Lisbon’s wearing polka-dotted pan-“

“ _Jane!_ ” Lisbon’s voice interrupts him while Rigsby attempts to cover his chuckles with a cough. “My office! _Now!_ ”

He watches as she stalks into her office before slamming the door. Van Pelt and Cho both direct their gazes at him while Rigsby is preoccupied with a leftover cupcake.

“What?” Jane answers their stares with a look of bewilderment. “Did I say something wrong?”

Van Pelt just sighs and Cho shakes his head as Jane bounds off the couch and into Lisbon’s office, a lecture on proper office conduct and appropriate topics of conversation awaiting him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane's antics continue, and the team has a case at the zoo.

**Chapter Four**

An entire week passes without any cases for the SCU. Though everyone else is concentrating on paperwork, like the dutiful CBI agents that they are, Patrick Jane is reclining on his couch, twiddling his thumbs due to the fact that he literally has nothing better to do. Well, besides said paperwork, but relaxing is really more preferable. Although he should probably be grateful that no one’s been murdered recently, boredom always trumps everything else, and he just needs something to do. Consequently, it’s time for him to bother Lisbon.

He pops up off of his couch and heads into the senior agent’s office.

“Lis- _booon_!” he whines, his tone that of a petulant child.

She sits with her head on her desk, releasing a tired sigh upon hearing him enter. Slowly, she raises her head to look at him, displeasure evident in her expression.

“What is it this time, Jane?”

“I’m _booored_ ,” he informs her with a pout.

“Like I told you when you came in here to tell me the same thing _twenty minutes ago_ ,” she emphasizes, rolling her eyes, “ _I. Don’t. Care._ ”

“Oh, come on, woman! Let’s go do something.” He rocks back on his heels, offering her his usual charming smile. “We could go to the zoo. I know how much you love the zoo.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the panties incident last week,” she warns him, narrowing her eyes into a glare, “Now. Go back to your _desk_ , and do your paperwork like everyone else.”

“Wait, I’m still being punished for that? I thought my punishment was that horrid lecture you made me suffer through…”

“Out!” she huffs, slightly indignant.

“Okay! I’m going!” he raises his hands in a gesture of innocence as he backs out of her office and proceeds back to his couch. Not his desk. Of course.

She spends the next twenty minutes or so thinking of more ways to punish Jane for his indiscretion before her phone rings, interrupting her train of thought on how to get rid of that damn couch.

“Lisbon,” she instinctively mutters into the receiver.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. This is Deputy Harper with the sheriff’s office,” the voice on the other end of the line informs her in a distinctively Southern accent. “We’ve got a dead body here; looks like a gunshot wound. We could really use your help.”

“Where is _here_ , exactly?”

“Uh, the Sacramento Zoo, ma’am.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Is this some kind of joke?” she questions him, a bit incredulously. She tilts her mouth away from the receiver before hollering into the bullpen, “ _Jane!_ ”

He diverts his attention away from the ceiling when he hears his name, turning to face Lisbon’s office. Upon seeing her anger-ridden expression, he quickly decides it would be best to find his way into her office, and do it fast.

“Ah, Lisbon! I knew you would get bored eventu-“

“Shut up, Jane,” she growls at him before turning her attention back toward the phone.

“Erm. No, ma’am. This is not a joke, I assure you.” Deputy Harper stammers into her ear. “And we’d, uh, like you to be here as soon as you can… ma’am.”

“Yea, okay. We’ll see about that,” she replies with a huff before slamming the phone down. 

She pinches her nose before addressing the current, and lately constant, source of her headache. “I don’t know who you think you are, Jane, but you cannot just go around and abuse your position for your own amusement. Cases are a serious matter, and I will not tolerate pranks. Do you understand?”

Jane looks absolutely dumbfounded, his usual mask slipping in lieu of being utterly confused. “Lisbon, I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s the oldest excuse in the book, Jane. You’re going to have to come up with something better if you hope to be convincing,” she mocks him. “Seriously, this isn’t funny. A case at the zoo, after you practically insisted not half an hour ago that we go have some fun at the zoo? This obviously has your name written all over it!”

“Lisbon. I’m serious. I swear, I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

There’s a pregnant pause as she takes a moment to consider that he might be telling the truth.

“Shit,” she mutters under her breath.

“I heard that.” Jane pipes up gleefully before a withering glare from Lisbon wipes the smile off his face.

\---

What should be a simple ten minute drive to get to the zoo quickly turns into a half-hour fiasco when Jane begins to whine from the back seat.

“Lisbon!” He calls out, far too loudly for the enclosed space of the SUV.

“What, Jane?” He’s only spoken one word, and she’s already irritated.

“Can we stop?”

“What? No! What for?” She glares at him through the rearview mirror.

“Well, if you really must know, I have to pee. So can we stop?”

She makes a face, deciding she probably shouldn’t have asked.

“I guess you should have thought about that before we left,” she informs him with a mischievous smirk.

“Lisbon!” he exclaims in agitation, leaning forward in his seat, “Come _on_!”

“And,” she continues, pretending she doesn’t hear him, “maybe next time you’ll know better than to spend your entire morning drinking tea and bothering me!”

He pouts, grumbling to himself about the unfairness of women, while Van Pelt tries to scoot impossibly further away from him.

 “Uh, Boss?” Rigsby tentatively pipes up after a few moments of silence, eliciting a sigh from the brunette in the driver’s seat.

“Yea...?”

“I, uh... I have to pee, too.” He quickly mutters, causing Lisbon to frown. Cho simply smirks, and Jane smiles victoriously while handing Rigsby a dollar bill.

“What the hell were you two doing all morning that this is suddenly such an emergency?” Lisbon inquires, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Uh... chugging contest?” Rigsby offers up half-heartedly.

“Whatever.” Lisbon mumbles under her breath, scanning the highway signs for any indication of a rest stop.

The next ten minutes are spent driving five minutes out of the way to a McDonald’s and waiting another five minutes for Jane, who decides now would be the proper time to buy some french fries.

“Feeling better?” she questions scathingly as he climbs back into the vehicle.

“Much, thank you,” he replies smugly.

“I got you some french fries!” He adds, holding out a second container with a huge grin on his face. She simply stares at him before turning her attention back to the road. “Okay then... I guess I’ll just give them to Rigsby!”

They finish the rest of the drive mostly in silence, the only noise coming from Jane and Rigsby as they happily munch away on their fries.

\---

When they arrive at the zoo, Lisbon quickly makes her way toward the crowd gathered outside of what appears to be the crime scene, the rest of the team following quickly behind. Sliding through the mass of people, she ducks under the yellow tape, coming face-to-face with the sheriff.

“You’re from the CBI, right?” he questions.

“Yes, sir. Agent Lisbon. These are agents Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt. And our consultant, Patrick Jane.” She nods toward each of them respectively, not even noticing that Jane has already wandered off, before extending a hand toward the man towering in front of her.

“Thanks for coming, agents. Sheriff Wilkins.” He shakes her hand with a firm grip. “And this,” he continues, gesturing toward a scrawny uniformed man to his left, “is Deputy Harper. He was first to arrive on the scene – it’s his first homicide – and I decided he’d earned the right to call it in.”

Deputy Harper nods sheepishly before distractedly pulling at his shirt sleeves. She moves around to the body and kneels down to get a closer look while Sheriff Wilkins rattles off all the known information.

“Hispanic male, appears to be around 40-years-old. There’s no ID on him, so we can’t be sure. COD looks like a gunshot wound to the chest. We’ll know more once the ME gets here, of course.”

She thanks him before instructing each member of the team what to do. Only then does she notice that a certain blond consultant has disappeared from the immediate vicinity.

“Great,” she groans, “have any of you seen Jane?”

None of them have, of course.

“I don’t have time for this,” she mumbles to herself, stalking off in the general direction of the animal habitats to search for him.

She finally finds him peering into the penguin exhibit, seemingly in some sort of staring contest with the penguin on the other side of the glass, both of them standing with their heads cocked to the side.

“Who’s winning?” She stands directly behind him and speaks loud enough to startle him.

“Well, now Amber is.”

“Amber?” Lisbon questions, looking around.

“The penguin, Lisbon. Her name is Amber. See the sign?”

“Okay then... mind telling me what the penguin has to do with our case?” she asks, quickly losing patience.

“Oh, nothing really. I just like penguins,” he informs her with a wide grin.

“Right. Now that you’ve managed to sufficiently waste everyone’s time, we have a crime scene to get to.” She walks off before he has a chance to object.

\---

“How was I to know that the deputy really did do it?” Jane complains, grimacing as the EMT wraps a bandage around the area where the bullet grazed his arm. “I was only poking fun at his obvious state of nervousness. He didn’t have to freak out and pull a gun on me!”

Lisbon rolls her eyes at his exaggerated hysterics. “First of all, that bullet barely touched you, so you can stop acting like it’s the worst injury in the world. And secondly, I really hope you learned your lesson about spouting off accusations at people – you’re just lucky that Harper is a horrible shot.”

“But Lisbon, I could have died. Then what would you do?” The sparkle of amusement in his eyes betrays his serious tone.

“Oh, I don’t know... go back to actual detective work like everyone else?”

“But you would miss me, right?”

“No.” She can’t help laughing at the horrified look on his face. “Just think how much less paperwork I would have to do, Jane!” she teases.

“Nonsense,” he waves her comment aside, “I say we celebrate the fact that I’m still alive.”

“Oh really,” she quirks an eyebrow, “and how do you propose we do that?”

“A date,” he replies smugly, his smile lighting up his entire face.

“ _Jane._ ” She narrows her gaze.

“Come on, Lisbon. You know you want to,” he chirps, suggestively waggling his eyebrows. “And before you object, it’s not against CBI policy – I already checked.” _No, I didn’t._

“Fine. A date then,” she concedes, smirking as he looks momentarily surprised before regaining his composure.

“Excellent.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Lisbon start to explore the possibilities of a relationship, including closed case pizza and unwanted snooping.

**Chapter Five**   


Dates soon become a regular part of their day, even if it's only as simple as eating lunch together in the break room. At first, Lisbon threatens Jane with paperwork if he so much as touches her while they’re at work, but as the weeks pass she becomes quite fond of the way his hand lingers near the small of her back as they walk, or how his fingers idly brush her arm when they’re alone in the car – Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt now drive separately, having learned their lesson after riding along with Jane and Lisbon the first time.

Jane sits in the passenger seat, feigning offense as Lisbon makes fun of him.

“I still can’t believe you were wrong. I mean, the butler? That’s so cliché – did you honestly think he poisoned Mrs. Waldrop?”

“What? It makes perfect sense! He served drinks to her every day, so he had the means. He was horrendously underpaid and she flirted mercilessly with him right under her husband’s nose, so he had the motive. How was I to know the husband was responsible when all evidence obviously pointed to the butler?”

“The butler was framed. If you had used _real_ detective work and paid attention to the _actual_ investigation, you would’ve realized Mr. Waldrop’s drug connections. Besides, you said so yourself – she was flirting with another man right in front of his face, so he was obviously going to be angry... Patrick Jane was wrong. God, that sounds good though.”

“Oh hush, woman!”

“You know what would sound even better? Patrick Jane _admitting_ that he was wrong.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. Sorry to disappoint you, my dear.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You're right, not really. Now, how about that closed case pizza?”

“Well, it looks like the rest of the team has plans, so I guess it’s just us. How does my apartment sound?”

“Splendid.” 

”All right,” Lisbon nods, already signaling for the next exit.

\---

Lisbon shrugs off her blazer as she walks through the door, tossing it noncommittally across the sofa while Jane carefully hangs his jacket over a kitchen chair.

“Here,” she hands him the phone. “You can order the pizza while I jump in the shower.”

“Why can’t we both take a shower? Isn’t it big enough for two people?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She quirks her eyebrow, hoping her cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“Jane, why on earth would you even think that I–“

“Never mind, Lisbon. Go enjoy your shower.”

“Yea, right,” she mutters as she quickly walks up the stairs. “No snooping!” she calls over her shoulder.

He hears a distinctive click as she shuts and locks the bathroom door. _No snooping, hmm?_ It hadn’t even entered his mind until she put it off limits.

Minutes later he slinks up the stairs with a playful grin on his face and the phone tucked against one ear, informing the Pizza Shack employee on the other end of the line of just how much cheese should be on a proper extra cheese pizza. He stops in front of the bathroom door, picking the lock with ease and poking his head through the doorway. Despite the efforts of the fan, the entire room is fogged with steam, and the air smells distinctly of cinnamon.

“Lisbon!” he chirps.

“ _Jane_!” she squeals, and he can tell she’s embarrassed without even seeing the rosy blush on her cheeks. “What the hell are you doing? I’m in the shower!”

“What’s your address? Dan needs it so he can deliver our pizza.”

She doesn’t have to see his face to know there’s a huge grin plastered across it.

“13A Rosewood Drive,” she mutters.

“I can’t hear you, Lisbon. The shower curtain must be blocking your voice. I can move it for you, if you need me to...,” he trails off, barely able to hide his amusement.

“Really, Jane?” She quickly says as she grabs the end of the shower curtain to hold it still, not trusting the mischievous tone of his words, before raising her voice, “13A Rosewood Drive. Now _get out_.”

\---

Although he really does try to restrain himself from looking around Lisbon's apartment, one can only be sufficiently occupied with Sudoku puzzles for so long. He hops off the couch and wanders toward her desk, finding various books on leadership and an assortment of sticky notes scattered about. Adjacent to her desk sits a broad bookshelf, and he notes with some amusement that her collection consists almost entirely of well-read Jane Austen novels, mixed among a few other classics and the occasional poetry book. Amidst a bunch of knick-knacks on the top shelf, he finds a photo album, setting it aside to glance through before moving on to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

Jane quickly makes himself at home in her kitchen, though he wishes her selection of teas was a little more varied – Lipton is really not what he would classify as good tea. He pours milk into a blue porcelain mug before adding the hot water and dunking a tea bag. Mug of tea in one hand and photo album in the other, he settles comfortably into the leather couch. Though not nearly as comfortable as his couch in the bullpen, the worn leather smells distinctly of Lisbon, instilling an entirely different sense of comfort as he stretches the album open on his lap.

“Jackpot,” he muses quietly to himself, smirking in amusement as pictures of a toddler with wide green eyes, messy brown waves and pouty lips stare up at him from the first page – her trademark look is present in almost every picture. 

He turns page after page, gathering small glimpses of her life through the years. A dark-haired baby pops up in pictures of a very smiley, pre-school-aged Lisbon. Two more fussy infants appear a few pages apart later on, and a bittersweet smile tugs at his lips. Despite the mischievous smile on young Lisbon’s face, they are the very picture of innocence; they could never have known that in only a decade’s time, their family would be torn apart not just once, but three times, leaving behind only the fearless sister out of the raucous bunch pictured in front of him.

He finishes his tea just as he turns to the last page, feeling a twinge of sadness at the realization that this was probably their last picture together – Lisbon is only in her late teens in this photo, but her tired eyes reflect more years than she’s seen and contradict her cheery smile. Her appearance in this particular instance strikes him as hauntingly familiar – her dark locks are cut into a short bob with bangs cut straight across her forehead. _Where have I seen that before?_

Images of bloodied corpses swim to the front of his mind, throats slashed and bodies mangled while a smeary smiley face stares at the victims of its creator. His face pales as the pieces fall into place in his mind, so lost in thought that he doesn’t even register the door bell ringing.

Lisbon rushes down the steps clad in sweatpants and a tank top, still scrunching a towel through her hair as she opens the door to pay for the pizza.

“Earth to Patrick Jane – didn’t you hear the doorbell?” she questions, simultaneously sliding the pizza onto the coffee table and plopping down next to him on the couch.

It’s then that she notices the photo album resting on his lap as he sits there merely staring at it, seemingly transfixed.

“What part of ‘No snooping’ did you not understand?” She teases in a mock-serious tone, reaching across to move the album out of the way. Confusion settles in when he still doesn't offer up any response, and she tentatively touches his shoulder. “Jane? ... Patrick, is everything okay?”

Her gentle tone draws his gaze toward hers, his expression unreadable. “It’s you, isn’t it?” He voices the question so softly, she almost misses it.

“What are you talking about, Jane?”

“Red John’s victims...they’re all you.”

She snatches her hand away as if it’s been burned and stands up, face paling in surprise.

“What? No, I...I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice falters, the excuse falling flat on Jane’s ears.

“Don’t lie to me, Lisbon. I’ve read all of the case files, and you told me yourself what happened when you were seventeen...your brothers, Red John, the victims’ appearances – it’s not a coincidence. Why the hell are you even on this case? Doesn’t Minelli realize how dangerous it is for you to be – “

“He doesn’t know,” she quietly interrupts him. “No one does.”

“Oh, God. Lisbon...,” he trails off when she averts her gaze. “Teresa, look at me.” Her eyes are defiant when they meet his. “You shouldn’t be on this case and you know it. If any one of them knew about this, you would never have – “

“Exactly!” She moves away as she cuts him off, indignant. “That is _exactly_ why no one knows. This case is mine, Jane. I am going to catch that bastard and make sure he rots in jail for the rest of his life for what he did to my family, to me...”

Lisbon’s hands are shaking with rage as she struggles to control her emotions, trying to ignore the twinge of fear that always pricks the back of her mind when the topic of Red John comes up.

“You don’t understand; I have to do this for them, Jane. My brothers deserve justice, and you won’t take that away from me.” An unwavering determination resonates through her shaky voice.

“I’m not trying to. It’s gonna be okay.” He pulls her into a gentle embrace from behind, slowly rocking from side to side in an effort to calm her down. “Everything’s gonna be all right. Everything is fine.” He murmurs the words into her ear, carefully adjusting his position to rub her shoulders in a soothing motion.

She leans back against him, eyes eventually drooping shut as his calming voice completes its desired effect on her nerves. He sweeps her off her feet as she drifts to sleep, carrying her to bed and placing a simple kiss on her forehead. Not wanting to leave her alone for the night, he settles himself as comfortably as possible on her couch, falling into a fitful sleep as unwanted images of Lisbon’s lifeless body on the floor, and a taunting smile painted in her blood, invade his subconscious.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Lisbon's relationship progresses, including ~date night.

**Chapter Six**

_Rrrring! Rrrring! Rrrring!_

Lisbon jolts awake when hearing the sound of her phone going off, casting a bleary-eyed look at the alarm clock on her night stand. It’s only 5:19 AM on a Saturday. _This better be pretty damn important._

She tries to reach for her phone, but the arm draped lazily over her bare waist tightens its grip, impeding her progress.

“Don’t answer it,” comes Jane’s voice, muffled against her shoulder and rough with sleep.

The more time they had spent together, the more difficult it had become to ignore their growing attraction to each other. One thing had inevitably lead to another, and they've been sleeping together for a couple of weeks now. Jane finds that the only way he can be sure his nightmares are just images conjured up by his subconscious, is if he falls asleep with Lisbon in his arms. And while she had been more hesitant at first, she certainly doesn’t mind the company; she’s had her fair share of dreadful nightmares over the past fifteen years, and it’s nice to have someone there for comfort when you wake up in the middle of the night, screaming as you try to chase the bloody silhouettes out of your mind.

“I have to answer it, Jane. It’s probably Minelli.”

“Day off. Really early. Don’t answer it.” Apparently, coherence is not a priority of his at the moment.

“I know it’s the team’s day off, but we’re also on call. That means I have to answer my phone. Now let go!”

“Don’t want to.”

“God, Jane! Do you have any qualities besides annoying?”

“I have many endearing, much more pleasant qualities.” His attempt at a seductive tone is considerably hindered by how groggy he sounds.

“Oh, please. I’ll believe that when I see it,” she scoffs. “Now let go of me before I resort to bodily harm.”

He loosens his hold just enough for her to reach the phone, much to her annoyance.

“Lisbon,” she answers, sounding entirely too alert for how early it is. “Yes, sir.... Mhm.... I can be there as soon as – oh!” She breaks off, barely holding back a gasp as Jane plants a slow kiss between her shoulder blades, raising goose bumps all over her skin. “N-nothing, sir. I just, uh...,” she trails off as Jane starts tracing lazy circles across her stomach, while his lips continue their journey up her spine. “I just stubbed my toe. I’ll, uh, be there soon.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye, moaning as soon as the call ends. She barely notices when Jane’s phone goes off a few minutes later, grunting in disapproval when he pulls away.

“Do you believe me now?” He whispers smugly in her ear, rolling on his back to answer his phone. “Virgil! How nice of you to call and check up on me so early on a Saturday morning! What can I do for you?”

Lisbon crawls out of bed, feeling simultaneously exhausted and sexually excited. _Two can play at this game._ Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she saunters over to Jane’s side, slowly climbing on top of him. He smirks as Minelli’s voice prattles on in his ear, but gives no other indication of even noticing her as she straddles his legs.

“Oh, it’s perfectly all right. I didn’t have any plans for the day anyway.” His voice doesn’t waver for a moment as Lisbon plants a kiss just below his navel and continues her way up his torso, brushing her lips against every available surface.  “Of course. I’ll be there shortly.” Still no change, while Lisbon reaches the pulse point in his neck, slowly sucking on the sensitive spot. “Yep. Buh-bye, Virgil.”

He ends the call, sets his phone back down, and yawns before finally turning his attention to Lisbon, who is now standing beside the bed with her hands on her hips.

“Well, well. Someone’s feeling a little frisky this morning.”

“How the hell do you do that?” She asks in frustration, ignoring his comment. “You didn’t even flinch!”

“I guess one of us just has a bit more self-control than the other, hm?”

“Yea, well one of us will also be showing up to work with a very noticeable hickey, and it sure as hell isn’t me!” 

She smiles victoriously before skipping off to the shower as Jane jumps up to inspect himself in the mirror.

“Damn,” he mutters, examining a bright red spot on his neck. “At least it was worth it.”

\---

“Stay back on this one, okay?” Lisbon warns Jane as she steps out of the driver’s seat, slamming the SUV door shut. “This guy is the lead suspect of a double homicide, and I’d really rather it not turn into a triple on your account.”

“Of course, Lisbon,” he waves off her worries as he climbs out of the passenger side. “You know me; I _always_ listen.”

She rolls her eyes as she turns to face the team, assembled a few houses down from their destination.

“All right. Cho, you’re with me around front. Rigsby and Van Pelt, you take the b-“

“What’s that on your neck, Jane?” Van Pelt interrupts, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Oh, just a bit of a rash. A little lotion and it’ll be gone in a few days. You were saying, Lisbon?”

“Right,” she drags the word out, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Rigsby and Van Pelt will take the back, and SWAT will cover behind us. Any questions?”

Rigsby starts to raise his hand before directing another question to Jane.

“You sure it’s just a rash, man? Looks an awful lot like a hic-“

“Quite sure, Rigsby, but thanks for your concern. I’ll just go wait in the car now.”

“’A bit of a rash’ my ass.” Lisbon comments once he’s out of earshot, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at her lips as she strides toward the house.

“Definitely a hickey.” Cho states. “Bet it was the boss.” He almost smiles before following after Lisbon, leaving behind an overly-happy Rigsby and a very confused Van Pelt.

\---

“Mr. Curtis!” Lisbon calls out, banging her fist against the front door. “We’re with the CBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

No answer.

“Mr. Curtis!” Lisbon knocks loudly a few more times, but only silence follows.

She moves back to kick in the door when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye. Grant Curtis is walking up the other side of the street, but he quickly turns away and sprints in the opposite direction at the sight of armed officers surrounding his house.

“Damn it, why do they always have to run?” Lisbon mutters, breaking into a run to chase after him. “Grant Curtis! I’m with the CBI! I just need to ask you a few questions!”

Her yells do nothing to deter him from running, but she quickly gains on him. When she finally gets close enough, she barrels straight into him, feeling a snag against her throat as she tackles him to the ground.

“Shit!” She exclaims, noticing the cross necklace splayed next to her on the ground, its chain snapped in two.

“Get off me, lady!” Grant mumbles, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of Lisbon pinned against him. “I have my rights!”

“Yea, the right to remain silent,” she seethes into his ear. She secures her handcuffs tightly around his wrists before standing up and handing him off to Cho who has just appeared beside her.

Lisbon bends down with a frown, gently picking up the broken necklace, carefully making sure the cross pendant doesn’t slide off.

“I can have that fixed for you.” Jane says softly from behind her, lightly clutching her elbow as she straightens up.

“It was my mother’s... if anything happens to it-“

“I know,” he interrupts. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Okay. I... trust you.” She looks into his eyes as she presses the necklace into his outstretched palm, hoping he realizes the deeper meaning behind her words.

Jane can’t help but smile, catching the significance of what she just admitted.

“I told you so,” he teases, his mind springing back to almost two months ago when Lisbon adamantly denied trusting him at all.

“Yea, yea...” She nudges his shoulder as they walk back to the car. “I guess a lot can change in two months.”

\---

The first thing Lisbon notices when she pulls up to her apartment is that a note has been taped to her front door. She climbs out of the car and shuffles forward, curiosity piqued. A smile tugs at her lips when she recognizes Jane’s handwriting as she plucks the note from the door and unlocks it, making her way to the couch to read in comfort.

**Lisbon,**

**  
**

**I figured it's about time for a date night. Y'know, a real date, to one of those fancy places that require a reservation. You can’t see me, but I’m wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.**

She chuckles to herself at that mental image before she continues to read.

**Wear that little black dress hiding in the back of your closet that hasn't seen the light of day, I'm sure, since you bought it. It deserves a night out almost as much as you do!**

She frowns, wondering how on earth he knew about that particular dress. _I leave him alone in my apartment for five minutes…_

**Before your mind starts wandering, rest assured I did not snoop! Well, okay. I snooped, but that's not how I knew.**

Another frown. _Hmph, I knew it._

**I have a few errands to run first, but I'll pick you up at 7.**

**Until then,**

**Jane**

**  
**

**P.S. I know you don't really want to wear the dress, but humor me. Please?**

She can't help but smile to herself. _Since he asked nicely…._

\---

Although she usually doesn't bother much with dates, Lisbon finds herself a bit on edge over this one. Not that she has any reason to be nervous. She’s obviously been out with Jane before, just not to any place that requires so much work to be presentable. She shifts a few things around in her closet, brushing aside the occasional cobweb, before being able to access the requested dress.

Half an hour later, she emerges from the bathroom, hair softly curled and styled, makeup appropriately applied. She glances at the clock. 6:27 PM. _Perfect. I still have plenty of time._ Now begins the hardest decision of all: shoes. Lisbon might not be what most would consider girly, but she can’t deny her love of shoes – it almost pains her to have to put on those horrid loafers each morning, but practicality is important in her line of work. However, she gets to wear whatever she chooses this evening, and she’s sure her hugely-under-used heels will appreciate the night out. A colorful high heel would be nice, but she has three different colors to choose from, all of which she knows she has matching jewelry for… somewhere. After an intriguing round of eenie-meenie-minie-moe, she decides on purple. She sets them on her bed before rummaging through multiple drawers, keeping an eye out for any jewelry even remotely resembling the color purple. Ten minutes later, she locates the set she’s looking for - dangly earrings, consisting of silver twisted around a plum-colored amethyst, and a long silver chain with a matching amethyst stone. She lays them next to the shoes before walking over to the dress that has been hanging on the back of her door for the past hour.

Lisbon takes a deep breath before stepping into it, pulling it up over her hips with only a little difficulty. It fits a bit tighter than she remembers, and she struggles a little to get the zipper to cooperate, but she can breathe. That's the important part, bypassing comfort just for tonight.

It's now 6:58 PM, and Jane will be here any minute. While punctuality may not always be his top priority, she has no doubt this is important enough for him to be on time. It was his idea, after all. She slides into her heels and clasps her necklace before the doorbell rings. She snatches the earrings before dashing toward the door, almost tripping over her heels on the way.

"Damn! Stupid shoes." She mutters under her breath. _This is way too much effort for one night._

She’s still fiddling with one of her earrings as she opens the door, but all previous thoughts of wasted effort vanish when she locks eyes with the blond-haired man standing in her doorway. Well, she tries to hold his gaze, but he seems to be a bit distracted perusing her outfit with an appraising stare. She takes a moment to return the gesture, noting he's replaced the usual three-piece-suit with a more modern fit, accompanied with a purple tie that just so happens to be the exact shade of plum she’s favored for the evening. Why am I not surprised?

"Beautiful." His voice is huskier than usual, and he flashes her one of those heart-melting smiles before his tone lightens a bit. “And we even match!”

"Oh, shut up!" She mumbles, unable to hide her smile as she playfully whacks his shoulder and saunters out the door.

\---

They sit at a somewhat-secluded table, right next to a vast window with a view of the skyline.

“Fancy,” Lisbon muses, glancing between the tuxedoed waiters and elegantly dressed patrons before resting her eyes on the single candle flickering in the center of the table.

“Very,” Jane agrees, smiling at her over his menu.

Their waiter soon scuffles over with a bottle of the house wine, pouring each of them a glass before disappearing as silently as he came. Lisbon takes a sip, staring at Jane with wide eyes as he reaches into his suit jacket and draws out a slender jewelry box.

“Jane...” She draws out his name, warning evident in her tone.

“No need to get upset, Lisbon. It’s not what you think. Just open it.”

She quirks an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions, but concedes to his wishes. Inside the box is her mother’s necklace, and a grin spreads over her face as she lifts it from the fabric.

“It looks perfect, Jane.” She raises her eyes to look at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, though I didn’t do much. I merely dropped it off and then had the tracking device added. No big deal.”

“All the same, you still took the time to- wait, did you say _tracking device_?”

“Yep.” He grins, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

“How the hell did you find someone to just implement a tracker into my mother’s necklace?”

“Ah. Well, there was this bet with the guys in the tech department, and-“

“Never mind,” she mutters. “Where does the signal go?”

“Right here!” He holds up his phone.

“I’m not sure how I feel about the idea of you always knowing where I am...” she trails off, eyebrow raised in his direction.

“Emergency use only, I assure you. Besides, at least this way you’ll never get lost in a house of mirrors.” 

\---

Lisbon takes another sip of wine, glancing at Jane as he hands their menus to the waiter. She let him order for the both of them, curious as to what he would pick for her. He hit the bull’s-eye, as expected, and he smiles at her lack of surprise.

"Am I becoming that predictable?" His voice takes on a tone of mock hurt.

"Oh, please. You're anything but predictable." She rolls her eyes and he resumes staring at her. He hasn't stopped staring since they sat down, and for once, she really doesn't mind.

“How did you know about the dress?” She’d been curious to know since first reading the note he left her.

“I was wondering when you would get around to that,” he says with a smile. “I knew because every woman has that one black dress, just begging to be worn. It's usually bought on a whim, in hopes that some sort of occasion will arise in the near future that will require such attire. But as you figured out, that usually doesn't happen. Hence, the back of the closet. But I will admit,” he lowers his voice, leaning forward with each word, “I had an ulterior motive when I asked you to wear that dress. Truthfully, I’ve spent the entire evening waiting to get you out of it.” With that, he steals a soft kiss, and she suddenly finds herself a bit antsy to be getting home, Patrick Jane in tow.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red John strikes again, hitting Lisbon a little too close to home.

**Chapter Seven**

The team is lounging around the bullpen, talking amongst themselves and enjoying closed-case pizza after finally cracking the Drake case – it had been a difficult start with very little physical evidence to work with, but Van Pelt had eventually discovered that Edwin Drake had been involved in four other armed robberies in the state of California over the past thirty years. Drake had used a different alias to commit each of the thefts, though this was the first time he had ended up killing someone in the process.

“Lisbon,” Minelli calls, stepping into the bullpen. “Can I see you in your office please?”

“Sure thing, Boss.” She steps away from the table and moves into her office, shutting the door behind her. “What is it?”

“Sacramento PD just called. A young woman was found dead this morning; her roommate found her. According to their lead officer, there were ‘a lot of knife marks and a big face painted on the wall in the girl’s blood’. He recognized Red John’s signature and called to turn it over to us.”

“Are they sure it’s Red John?” Lisbon asks, disbelief evident in both her tone and her face.

“It’s definitely him, Lisbon,” Minelli states as he hands over the file. “You and your team need to get over there as soon as you can. We can’t afford for this to run cold again!”

“But, Boss, it’s only been three months since the last time Red John attacked. It’s a break in pattern for him to strike again so soon! It’s probably just a copyc-“

“Listen to me, Teresa. Red John is your case. This is very likely a Red John murder. Even if it turns out to be a copycat – although I don't believe it is – you'll be able to tell. If there's anyone who's been involved in this since the very beginning, it's you. Which is why I'd like for you to go and check it out anyway. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” she mutters. _You have no idea of just how long I've been involved in this..._

She follows Minelli, grabbing her jacket off its chair on her way out of her office. Glancing at her team, she motions toward the elevator before heading that way herself. They soon catch up to her, all complacently silent before Jane pipes up from the back.

“New case?”

“Nope,” she mumbles before heaving a sigh. “Same old damn case.”

\---

The forensics team is already bustling around when they arrive, scouring every inch of the crime scene for even the smallest trace of evidence. Red John’s trademark smile holds its usual prominent position on the wall opposite the door, still wet and dripping as Lisbon stares into its haunting eyes. Jane sits crouched over the victim, though they both know by now that there will be nothing new to find. If anything, there is even less to see this time – the young girl’s skin has been slashed in so many places that it looks as if not an inch is left unmarred by her blood, save for her face. Lisbon knows it's only been spared so she would be forced to recognize herself in it. Apparently, Red John is angry.

Lisbon turns away from the wall to glance around the victim’s room. Very little wall space is visible, due to the countless number of photographs and posters hanging up around the room. She steps closer to them, a twinge of guilt making itself known as she observes the smiling face of the girl now lying on her own bedroom floor, completely devoid of life and spirit. Her hair was dirty blonde and her bright blue eyes sparkled in every picture. Apparently, she had enjoyed taking pictures very much and she seemed to have been part of a large group of friends. She liked Paramore and had multiple books by Nicholas Sparks and Jodi Picoult up on her shelves. Her favorite color was probably purple.

Lisbon instantly catalogues all of this information in her mind, making sure this girl won’t become just another in a long list of victims whose lives were cut far too short and whose families deserve justice. She still remembers every one of them – even those who were killed before she joined the bureau – and random tidbits of information that help to keep the memory of them alive in her mind.

“You there, Boss?” Cho’s voice penetrates her thoughts, and she realizes she must have zoned out.

“Sorry, didn’t hear you. What is it?”

“He left this.” He holds up an evidence bag, and she quickly takes it to get a better look.

On one side, Red John’s calling card has been drawn in bright red, and she flips it over to discover a brief note, addressed solely to her.

**Dearest Teresa,**

**My, my, how you’ve lost your focus.**

**It seems a certain consultant of yours appears to have been, shall we say, distracting you as of late.**

**Have you forgotten your quest for precious ‘justice’ so quickly?**

**I thought maybe it was time for another reminder, so I’ve left this masterpiece just for you.**

**I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it.**

**Until next time, agent.**

She clenches her fist and closes her eyes, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions washing over her. Anger. Hatred. Fear. Sorrow. Guilt. She latches on to the first feeling that sticks, inwardly drowning in remorse as her mind bubbles over with facts: Annika wanted to be a veterinarian. Jordan had been going out with her boyfriend for six months. Beth was going to graduate with honors. Emily had a son named Charlie. Violet was engaged. Melody had a soft spot for strays. Carrie rode her bike everywhere to save money on gas. Lauren was studying to be an actress. Kayla only read poetry. Nicole was getting ready to-

“Lisbon,” Jane’s concerned tone brings her back to the present as she suddenly registers the stares of her colleagues and the presence of his warm hands on her shoulders.

Her eyes are misty when she looks up into his face, worry etched into his features. “That should be me, Jane. She didn’t deserve this.”

“No, Lisbon.” His voice is simultaneously calm and firm. “No one deserves this. _No one._ Not you, and not anyone else. But especially not you. Okay?”

She gives an unconvincing nod, and he pulls her into a hug, no longer caring about the rest of the team standing around them, wondering what's going on and if Lisbon is all right. He moves his hand across her back in a soothing, circular motion, rubbing gently as he tries to calm her nerves. She briefly cringes at the very public display of affection, but eventually she acquiesces as the methodical rhythm of his hands lulls her into a sense of comfort, making all doubt gradually slip from her mind. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Lisbon venture into domesticity, and Red John gets a bit jealous.

**Chapter Eight**

Though she used to dread her forced days off, when she would stay at home all day only to be thinking of all the work she could be getting done and not knowing what to do with herself, Lisbon now enjoys her breaks - looks forward to them, even. On occasion, she doesn't even want to go back to work the next morning, finding the idea of spending the whole day at home, with Jane all to herself, exceedingly more enticing.

Between lazy Saturday mornings in bed with Jane, the daily distractions of new cases at work, and late nights on the couch (or against the wall, or on the kitchen counter, or in the shower) with Jane, the Red John debacle of three weeks ago is all but forgotten in her mind.

She stands in the kitchen, clad only in an over-sized tee shirt while she splits a batch of scrambled eggs onto two plates and pops some bread into the toaster. She hums in content as Jane comes up behind her, wrapped in a towel and golden curls dripping wet, and places a feather-light kiss to her cheek.

"You made me breakfast? That was nice of you."

"I made _us_ breakfast. And I didn't have much choice when a certain lazy man wouldn't get out of bed. I seem to remember hearing something along the lines of, 'Day off. Only 10am. Going back to sleep.'" Lisbon teases. "I hope you know that you're going to be cleaning up all the water that you're dripping all over my floor."

"No problem. I have a towel right here." Jane moves to tug off the towel that’s draped around his otherwise bare waist, giving Lisbon a playful wink, but she swats his hand away.

"Unless you'd like to be charged with indecent exposure, I suggest you leave that towel where it is," she scolds, only half-joking.

"Is that so? If I recall correctly, 'day off' also means 'not on duty', so I'm not too worried about you arresting me. Nice try, though."

"Don't you have better things to do other than be agitating?"

He casually leans against the counter, forkful of eggs in hand as he pretends to contemplate an answer to her question.

"Hmm... nope." He grins, almost laughing when she flinches at the sound of the toaster popping up. "You're stuck with my charming personality all day long."

"Shut up, and eat your toast." She grumbles, frowning as she plops the toast into the middle of his eggs. "I'm getting in the shower. Feel free to make yourself useful or something."

"Oh, don't worry. I will."

\---

Lisbon walks out from her shower, fully intent on teasing Jane by prancing around in her lacy green lingerie. Instead, she finds a note sitting next to the sink by their breakfast dishes, which are now sparkling clean.

**Lisbon,**

**  
**

**I've gone out for the day to continue 'making myself useful', as requested. Contrary to my usual definition of being helpful, I think you'll enjoy what I bring back with me. I know patience is not one of your virtues, but you're still going to have to wait until this evening to find out exactly what it is. Try not to get too bored without me there to push your buttons.**

**  
**

**Jane**

She smirks. _Great. I have almost a whole day to try and not think about what kind of trouble he's most likely going to get himself into. How could that possibly go wrong?_

Grabbing the remote on her way to the couch, she plops down and wraps herself in a blanket, settling down for a marathon of Friends.

\---

Lisbon starts awake at the sound of a car door slamming shut, stretching out on the couch with a yawn. She flicks off the TV and slumps off of the couch, dragging the blanket behind her as she heads through her bedroom and on into the bathroom.

The sun has just finished setting when she walks back out, casting the bedroom into total darkness, and she doesn't notice the hooded figure waiting in the shadows behind her when she walks by.

"You've been ignoring me, Teresa," an unfamiliar voice, tinged with sadness, speaks out from directly behind her.

She whirls around, dropping the blanket in surprise as she comes face to face with a man in a mask who trumps her height by at least eight inches. The color drains from her face when she catches the glint of a knife tucked into his belt, and she begins to slowly back away, finding herself suddenly unable to speak. He whips out his hand and grabs her wrist, roughly pulling her toward him and whipping out a vial with the opposite hand.

"I can't have you running away from me, now can I?" She can imagine the wicked grin present on his face behind the mangled plastic mask, and a chill runs through her veins as the needle pierces her skin and he plunges the syringe, injecting his drug of choice into her system.

Within seconds, her whole body feels sluggish and lethargic, her knees wobbling as they struggle to hold her weight. He extracts the knife from its place and poises it above her wrist, applying just enough pressure to draw blood. She watches helplessly as he swipes three gloved fingers over the cut, allowing her to drop unceremoniously to the floor as he paints a miniature, but equally precise, version of his calling card on the wall opposite her bedroom door.

"Just a little something for Mister Jane to remember you by." His tone is scathing, almost superior. He turns away from the wall and reaches down, scooping her up from the floor and carrying her swiftly out of her apartment.

A lone tear escapes as her vision finally succumbs to the pressing darkness, and all she can hear as she slowly sinks into a state of unconsciousness is the sound of his malicious laughter as it echoes endlessly through her mind.


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Lisbon is in the hands of an angry Red John.

**Chapter Nine**

Lisbon's eyes flicker, her body struggling to come out of its state of unconsciousness. She has absolutely no idea where she is, but she does know that it's dark, cold, and damp. The air is musty and reeks of dried blood. The semi-alert part of her mind comes to the conclusion that she must be in some kind of dungeon. She feels stiff all over, and a dull throbbing at the back of her neck already pesters her first waking moments. Though her brain transmits the signal for her to stretch, her body doesn't respond, and she begins to suspect something might be amiss. She blinks a few times, her sight still a bit fuzzy, but she doesn't need perfect clarity to see, and now feel, that she is shackled to a wall, still in her lingerie. She tugs at her restraints to no avail, desperate to relieve the tension spreading through her whole body. Panic sweeps over her as she looks around, eyes darting from left to right. Her vision is limited, as the room is pitch black. Her mouth feels as if it's been stuffed with cotton. She quickly shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, but the attempt at calming herself down is completely futile. She thinks back over the last few hours, desperate to remember something, anything, about what happened and how she got here.

Her eyes pop open as random images come to the front of her mind: A masked man hiding in her bedroom. A vial of drugs injected into her arm. Everything slowly going blank.   _I was... kidnapped._

She flails her body vigorously, finding herself already low on energy. She can only presume that whatever drugs he used haven't quite worn off as she unwillingly loses her resolve to fight against her chains. Her breathing becomes rushed and heavy as her ability to function properly quickly dissipates.

A deep chuckle reverberates around her, the wicked sound seemingly echoing off of the walls and straight to her ears. Her skin begins to crawl, and she gives an involuntary shiver as goose bumps rise up on every inch of her body.

"Teresa, my dear, it’s so nice that you're finally awake." An unfamiliar voice hisses, and Lisbon flinches at how close the man is as she feels his warm breath tickle her ear. He snickers under his breath at her reaction, backing away into the darkness only momentarily. With the flip of a switch, the room is illuminated and she finds herself temporarily blinded by the sudden brightness. Her eyes adjust after a moment, and the sight that greets her causes her stomach to twist into knots as a cool sweat breaks out over her skin. She flickers from intense rage to a panic-filled fear as she takes in the sight of the walls, all completely covered in smeared, bloody smiley faces.

"Red John," she manages to send a hoarse whisper into the ominously silent air, barely able to speak past the scratchy lump in her throat.

"You rang?" he calls out in a sing-song voice, emerging from the shadows. He's still wearing a mask, unsurprisingly, and is covered head-to-toe in form-fitting black.

She narrows her eyes, determined not to show the fear that's consuming her from the inside. 

"Kidnapping? That's not your MO." She states what she knows to be true, and he seems amused at her observations. He inches forward, reaching out to her with his gloved hand. She jerks away from his touch, though she can't get far. Nausea sweeps over her as his hand caresses her cheek, and he chuckles at her.

"You're special to me, Teresa. You know that. Of course things are going to be different."

She does her best to keep her expression impassive, though there's very little she can do to prevent her face from paling as Red John takes a small step back and unsheathes a knife. He holds it up to the light, admiring the way it shines as he turns it from side to side.

"I picked this one just for you." He leans forward, pressing the knife tightly to her throat. "Perfect."

He fondles a lock of her hair, clucking his tongue before addressing her again, "My, Teresa. You've let your hair grow so long now." He poises the knife so that it rests at her chin, blade facing her brunette locks. "I wonder if your dear consultant has anything to do with that. I saw him earlier today; walking around downtown, happy as can be, arms laden with shopping bags. Tell me, Teresa, how do you think he will feel when he walks into your apartment and sees your bedroom wall, tainted with your own blood? He'll recognize my handiwork, I'm sure. I imagine he won't even remember what happy feels like. _Poor. Mister. Jane._ " With each loathing, spite-filled word, he chops at her hair until it's shaped roughly into a short, wavy bob, the exact replica of her high school style. "Much better. Now where were we?"

He slides the knife unbearably slowly down her arm, and she bites her lip against the stinging pain to keep from crying out.

"One can never be too careful when it comes to avoiding major arteries. One false swipe," he pauses, striking swiftly across her wrist and reopening the tender wound, "and you would bleed out in minutes. But you wouldn't learn your lesson that way. And besides, we haven't even gotten to the fun part yet."

The blood drips down her left arm from where it's shackled high above her head, running sparingly over her shoulder and down between her breasts.

"Green is really a lovely color on you, Teresa." Bile rises up in her throat as he slides the blade under the strap of her bra, slicing through the thin fabric like butter. "It brings out your eyes."

Red John lightly glides the tip of the blade up and down her left side, as if contemplating his next move.

"Beg me, Teresa," he leans in close to her face, his voice rough and low as the blade continues to trace a path between her shoulder and her hip. "Beg me not to cut you apart."

" _Fuck_ you," she whispers scathingly, eyes angry and defiant.

He grabs her throat whilst slicing through the skin along her side, causing her eyes to water as she bites her lip so hard that it, too, begins to bleed.

"Wrong answer. You should really be careful what you wish for, agent." He turns away from her and marches to the only corner of the vast room still cloaked in darkness. He returns only moments later, a new vial in hand and mask cast hastily aside. There's a spark to his deep blue eyes as he observes her shock at seeing his face. It's not that she knows him from anywhere, but the fact that he exposed his face to her at all - a death omen in and of itself, for he would never reveal his identity to someone who would live to tell about it.

He flicks the vial in his hand once, twice, smiling to himself as he plunges the needle into her skin, relishing the flecks of pain etched into her face as the drug rushes through her veins, taking control of her nervous system. He reaches up and unlocks her shackles, quietly chuckling at the pitiful image she creates as she crumbles helplessly to the ground.

Lisbon grimaces as cold seems to literally flow through her body, chilling her to the bone as her vision gradually begins to blur. Red John tears the rest of her bra away, his now-bare fingers running delicately over her tender skin. She silently begs for unconsciousness, anticipating the relief of not recalling anything that he may do to her as her limbs start to go numb. Her hearing fades out completely, and she's almost grateful when her line of sight finally goes black, already falling into sweet oblivion.

A scream is ripped from her throat as the distinct sensation of fingers dancing at the hem of her underwear tingles painfully under her skin - she can't see, she can't hear, and she can't move, but her sense of feeling is extremely heightened, and there will be no reprieve from Red John's touch.

Hot tears literally singe her cheeks as she spends the next hour simply wishing she were dead.

\---

Lisbon closes her eyes as her vision steadily clears, not wanting to look at herself or the stains of her own blood on the floor. She concentrates on the feeling of the cold concrete wall against her back as she lays on her side, curled into the fetal position after a strenuous effort to adjust her body, still feeling weighted under the effects of the drug. She clutches her legs as tightly as possible to her chest, trying in vain to hide herself from the inevitable.

Footsteps echo across the floor, followed by chuckles of amused laughter. "You can't hide yourself from me, Teresa."

He grabs Lisbon by her hair and lifts her from the floor, slamming her back against the wall and forcing his lips to her neck.

"No. Don't. Not again," she chokes out, and his movements abruptly stop.

"Pardon me?" The slight pressure of his lips is replaced with the tip of his knife as he raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief. "Did you want to ask me something?"

"No more." Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

"You know how to properly form a question, agent. _Ask me._ "

"Please..." she starts, but her quiet plea is interrupted when a shot rings out.

Lisbon collapses to the ground and curls into a ball as Red John falls back against the wall. Footsteps scramble across the floor, and Cho is the first one she sees, still holding up his gun. Rigsby and Van Pelt follow suit, sweeping the rest of the room with a mixture of disgust and apprehension in their eyes as they take in the blood-marked walls.

Jane brings up the rear, eyes wide when he sees Lisbon lying naked on the floor, barely recognizable in her current emotional state.

"Lisbon." His voice is filled with concern as he places a gentle hand on her shoulder, cringing when she flinches away from his touch. "It's okay, Lisbon. It's just me, Jane."

She opens her watery eyes, another tear spilling down her cheek. He carefully drapes his suit jacket over her shoulders before helping her to stand, clinging to her as she struggles to stay upright on shaky legs.

"How did you-" Lisbon starts, voice cracking before she can finish her question.

Jane softly fingers the blood-spattered cross pendant dangling from her neck, a bittersweet smile playing at his lips. "I suppose the idea of me always knowing where you are is a bit more appealing now."

A peal of laughter breaks the relative quiet, and Red John quivers as he rakes his eyes over Lisbon's form.

"It's not over, Teresa," he garbles past blood-filled lungs. "I win - it will never be over."

He sits propped up against the wall, surrounded by a pool of his own blood as his gunshot wound continues to bleed out. He stares at Lisbon as he stops breathing, his eyes permanently glued to her body.

Lisbon can no longer hold back the nausea his words cause, and as she wretches all over Jane's shoes, she can't help but think that he's right - even in death, he has won.

Life will never be anything short of miserable.

**The End**


End file.
